


Hermoine's Halloween

by Kerichi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Magic act, The Fantastic Fauntleroy, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8432872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerichi/pseuds/Kerichi
Summary: A Halloween party and a magician named Fantastic Fauntleroy transforms young Hermione's interest in magic tricks into a desire to learn about real magic.





	

 

 

 

"Don't get comfortable, class. I'm assigning new seats today," Miss Cross said.

Hermione's heart sank. It was the end of October. Every other teacher had moved her to the back of the class by mid-September. She'd fervently hoped this year would be different. After all, she didn't blurt out comments or raise her hand to answer every question anymore. She was eight years old now and wanted schoolmates to call her friend, not know-it-all. Another lost hope, from the accusing looks shot her way when two students' names were called and they were told to switch desks. Teachers thought they were so clever, making half the class change seats, but everyone knew Hermione was to blame. She sighed and gathered her things.

The desk next to the wall on the back row was the last place she wanted to sit. It wasn't that she couldn't see the board. She didn't even mind the constant whispering of neighbours who preferred to socialise rather than complete assignments. It was the placement of her desk that bothered her.

She felt shoved into the corner: invisible to everyone, even the teacher since Miss Cross tended to look at the students in the centre of the room whenever she addressed the class. The impression was cemented when Reggie Kane passed out invitations to a Halloween party at the weekend. Blond and popular, he smilingly counted out invitations and handed them to the boy or girl sitting in the first desk of each row to take one and pass them to the next person. Everyone received an orange envelope decorated with a glittery pumpkin sticker: everyone except her.

Hermione raised her hand. Miss Cross didn't notice. Hermione said over the excited chatter of her classmates, "I didn't get an invitation."

Snickers broke out.

Miss Cross focused her narrowed gaze on Reggie. "What is our class policy, Mr. Kane?"

"Invite one, invite all." He removed an invitation from a trouser pocket and handed it to the closest boy. "Pass it back to Granger."

All heads turned to watch the envelope passed like a baton from one student to another. By the time the invitation reached Hermione, her face burned with embarrassment and her cheeks had to be as red as candy apples. "Thank you," she whispered to the girl who had handed her the envelope. It was a relief when the teacher told the class to take out their science books.

Hermione waited until she'd finished lunch and went to the library for the rest of the hour long break to open her invitation. She sat on the floor in the encyclopaedia section—no one ever went there—and carefully opened the envelope. It was too pretty to rip up. The orangey-red colour reminded her of oak leaves in autumn, and the glittery pumpkin's grin made her smile too. The invitation itself was black with Please Join Us and the date, time, address, Regina Kane's phone number and RSVP in gold letters. More interesting than Reggie being named after his mum was the drawing of a top hat and wand at the bottom of the invitation. Hermione rubbed a fingertip over the word that guaranteed her attendance.

Magician.

 

If her first word had really been "why" as her parents claimed, her second word must have been "how". She always wanted to know how things worked. Robotics; cave biology; magic tricks.

She'd read dozens of books and magazine articles written by magicians who shared how they'd tricked audiences and what made the tricks work. The subject was fascinating. Her mum and dad had purchased a magic show kit so Hermione could perform cognitive experiments using misdirection to alter their perception. She'd hidden her disappointment when her parents praised her "magic skills." They were dentists, not psychologists.

They immediately offered to buy her a magician costume when she showed them the invitation at the dinner table.

"You could bring your magic show kit," her mum said.

Her dad chuckled. "Be the warm up act."

Hermione would rather floss three times a day than perform amateur tricks in front of a professional magician. "I want to be a witch."

Her parents exchanged glances.

"Wearing a pointy hat isn't perpetuating negative stereotypes," Hermione said. "Fairytale witches aren't wiccans."

"Of course not." Her mum reached up a hand to smooth down her slightly frizzy, flat ironed hair. "When I was your age, children at school said that I had witch hair." She paused, and then asked gently, "Is that why you want the costume? To show classmates you refuse to be bullied?"

"No." Sometimes girls would ask if she owned a brush, but no one had ever compared her bushy brown hair to witch hair. "I just like the costume."

Dad patted Mum's hand as he told Hermione, "If you're ever bullied, and you don't feel comfortable telling the teacher, your mother and I will gladly go to the school and speak on your behalf."

Her dad's tone was steely. Her mum's lips were trembling. Had she been bullied at school? Hermione stood and went around the table to hug her. "No one makes fun of me, Mummy," she said. "Not since I punched Julian Dibble for calling me 'Beaver Teeth' in year one."

Her mum's eyes widened. "Punched?"

Hermione nodded. "Mrs. Spacey told me to sort things out with him, so I did."

Her dad laughed.

"Richard!" her mum scolded, although her lips kept twitching upward. She told Hermione, "Non-violent methods of conflict resolution are best, although I'm happy you aren't being teased, dear." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Eat all your veg, and we'll go shopping for your costume."

Aside from wanting her hat and long witch dress to be black, Hermione didn't care whether the fabric was velvet or velour, plain or decorated with lace. What she wore wasn't as important to her as what she would hold. The magician's wand from her magic kit always felt wrong. It did the job of distracting her parents from what she was doing with her other hand—the magic trick. Her palm grew clammy when she held it, though, as if her skin recoiled from the hard plastic.

At a dress agency that sold vintage clothing, the owner showed them a Halloween costume she'd taken on consignment earlier that day. When Hermione saw the light brown wand with a climbing vine carved into the wood, she picked it up and said, "This is it." She absently approved the velvet dress and witch's hat that completed the costume, unable to keep her eyes off the wand.

She tucked it under her pillow when it was time for bed.

"I think she likes it," her dad told her mum in a stage whisper. Hermione had called it a dad whisper until she was five and her parents took her to see her first play. They lingered just inside her room, watching her fall asleep. Older parent syndrome, a girl at school had called it. She'd told her friends that her parents had tried for so long to have a child, they treated her like a fairy princess and an angel sent from heaven rolled into one. The other girls, who had siblings, acted jealous. Hermione, who had sharpened pencils while listening to the conversation, would've traded being the sole focus of parental devotion for a brother or sister.

"The dress is a size too big," her mum whispered fretfully. She always worried about appearances, and would have flat ironed her daughter's unruly hair into submission years ago if allowed.

Hermione, who had pretended to fall asleep on her side so they would close her door and leave her alone to read a book under the covers, opened her eyes. "I hate tight clothes." She slid a hand beneath her pillow to touch the wand. "My costume is  _perfect._ "

 

Although the invitation stated that parents were welcome to enjoy the party along with their children, Hermione had urged her parents to go out to dinner after they dropped her off. That way, she could eat what she liked without them cringing, wincing, or embarrassing her by crying out, "Not the toffee, darling! It sticks to your gums!"

Reggie Kane's house was huge and too posh for exterior decoration, it seemed, although a werewolf howl erupted when Hermione pressed the doorbell. Reggie, dressed as a pirate, opened the front door. He flipped up his eye patch to stare at her with two grey eyes. "Nice costume," he said.

Hermione didn't like the way he greedily appraised her wand. She clenched it in her fist. "Nice hook." It looked like real metal, not plastic.

"Have fun, we'll be back at nine," her dad said.

Her mum added in an overly cheery voice, "Remember, you can have sweets if you like."

Hermione practically shoved Reggie into the entry and shut the door. "They're dentists," she told him. "Sugars create acids that cause decay. This party is their nightmare."

His expression had changed from  _are your parents loony_ to  _you're as loony as your folks_. She handed him a bag containing a "host gift" of a battery-operated toothbrush and floss and escaped into the next room.

 

What the outside of the home lacked in decoration was compensated for in the massive lounge. Black and white was the theme. White jewelled skulls, white and black painted pumpkins, fairy lights, streamers, and a flock of crows perched on the white fireplace mantel. Parents stood at one end of the room, chatting to each other and drinking white wine while the children grouped around different game stations. Hermione had no interest in pinning the face on the pumpkin, bobbing for apples or Halloween bingo. She made a beeline for the French doors open to the back garden.

The garden was mostly terrace, well-lit and suitable for entertaining adults more than children. There was only a rectangular patch of manicured grass bordered by planting boxes lined against the privacy fence. On the grass at the edge of the terrace, a man was setting up a high tech portable stage that seemed to unfold itself. He had golden hair and wore the most unusual magician's costume she'd ever seen: floor-length blue robes embroidered with bronze moons and stars.

The magician glanced up when she drew near. His smile dazzled. "Just what I needed," he said in a merry voice. "A lovely witch for an assistant."

Hermione looked over her shoulder. Everyone else was still in the house. She turned to the magician. "Me?"

He chuckled. "Not now, but hair and teeth are easy fixes. You've got excellent bones and—" He peered at her more closely. "Sherry-coloured eyes. Future you will be quite stunning."

Her face heated.

He grinned. "I pay assistants with compliments."

Hermione giggled. The magician was charming and funny, and so handsome she was sure he wouldn't even have to compliment someone to get them to help with his act. She walked up the steps to the stage and saw the magician's table covered with a black cloth that had a banner pinned to the side facing the audience. How had she not noticed the table before?

"I wanted to use bronze lettering," the magician said, "but the metallic gold matches the highlights in my hair."

"Fantastic Fauntleroy," Hermione whispered, reading the banner.

"Evokes reverence and awe, doesn't it?" Fauntleroy asked. At her nod, he playfully tapped the brim of her hat. "Time to set up." He went behind the table and crouched down. Hermione stood on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. He was reaching into a Mary-Poppins style carpet bag. "Here," he said, lifting out a crystal ball. "Place this on its stand."

"Stand?" There was nothing on the table.

"Open your eyes, girl."

A tall stand in the shape of three bronze crescent moons with stars stood in the centre of the table. Her jaw dropped. "You really are fantastic," she said as she took the crystal ball from Fauntleroy.

He beamed. "That's what all my assistants say."

By the time boys and girls gathered in front of the stage and Fauntleroy introduced himself to his expectant audience, Hermione's mind was reeling. All the props on the table had come out of the carpet bag, including the bird cage. If it had been floral instead of blue tapestry, she would've wondered if the bag had once belonged to the real Mary Poppins. How had everything fit inside? Did the magician reach through a false bottom to a secret compartment under the stage? If so, why trick only her instead of using it in his act?

She snapped to attention when Fauntleroy said, "Come aboard, Pirate Boy."

Reggie Kane bounded up the steps.

"A deck of playing cards, Assistant, if you please."

Hermione handed a cellophane wrapped pack to Fauntleroy, who held them up to the audience. "Ordinary cards, unopened." He let Reggie do the honours of ripping the cellophane and then took the cards, shuffled, and asked the boy to pick a card.

Queen of Hearts: Reggie showed it to the audience before giving it to the magician who made a show of eating the card. Fauntleroy swallowed and then wiggled the card down his body accompanied by children's laughter. Finally, he stomped his right foot, breathed a comical sigh of relief and asked "Pirate Boy" to slip off his shoe. Reggie held up the black tasselled loafer, showing the Queen of Hearts inside. The crowd erupted with applause.

Hermione grabbed the deck of cards off the prop table, turned it over and quickly fanned out the cards. They were ordinary, not a deck of copies of three cards, one of which would be hidden up his sleeve and the other two in his left and right shoes.

Fauntleroy asked everyone to give a hand for his pirate volunteer. Once the boy left the stage, the magician asked the audience to raise their hands if they had pets and to keep their hands lifted if their pets did tricks. Some of the raised hands lowered. Fauntleroy asked for the people who had trained their pets to obey their every command, every single time, no matter the distraction to keep their hands in the air. All hands fell. Fauntleroy shared that he, too, never had much luck training pets.

He grinned. "That's why I turned to magic." He gestured to the table. "Assistant, hand me Goldy."

Only one object was solid gold. Hermione picked it up.

"Heavy, isn't it?" he asked, responding to her look of surprise.

"Yes." It felt like a lead golf ball dipped in gold. If he was preparing to do the trick she believed it was, he'd have to use sleight of hand to exchange it with another.

"What are you holding?" he asked her.

Hermione and several children answered, "A ball."

Fauntleroy put a finger to his lips, shushing everyone. "Don't let Goldy hear you. She believes she's a dog." He took the ball and allowed a few children to come up and hold and pet it. "What do you think," he asked them. "Too heavy? Am I over feeding her? Should I cut back the kibble?"

One of the girls burst into giggles. "She's not a dog."

He snatched the ball from her. "You've hurt her feelings. Time for Goldy to prove herself." He shooed the children off the stage.

Hermione's pulse leapt. This was it, the moment where he would use misdirection to cover exchanging the heavy ball for a hollow one strung with wire so thin the audience couldn't see it. She held her breath, every muscle tense with anticipation.

Fauntleroy winked at her and dropped the ball. "Stay!"

The ball floated mid-air.

Gasps were followed by thunderous applause. Hermione barely listened to the commands the magician gave the enchanted golden ball or the delighted clapping that swelled after each new "trick." Her thoughts were stuck on a loop.

_He didn't switch balls. There are no strings. No. Strings!_

She trembled.

Fauntleroy's magic was real.

Hermione functioned like a robot girl for the rest of the show. She handed over props and returned them to the table after each trick as if she'd been programmed. Somehow her body could operate normally although her brain was desperately trying to process what she'd learned. Fauntleroy didn't use optical illusions and misdirection to trick the audience. He was a warlock or wizard. Someone who cast spells to work actual magic.

When Fauntleroy levitated her body from the stage and "supported" her with a broom propped in the middle of her back, since every witch needed a broomstick, she whispered, "Real magicians use static electricity by giving the bristles a good sweep, propping the broom beneath the assistant's arm where it attracts a metal plate in her shoes and holds her up."

Fauntleroy kicked the broom out, let her fall almost to the stage, and then stopped her fall with his powers.

"You don't know what you're talking about." He yanked her to her feet while smiling at the audience as they gave him their applause.

"Yes, I do," she snapped. "I've studied magic tricks."

"What about magic  _spells_?" His eyes flickered to a point over her shoulder. " _Aparacium,_ " he said softly.

Gasps and a new burst of clapping sounded.

Hermione turned her head. At the left back corner of the stage, the spot that had been empty now held a weathered grey cabinet.

Fauntleroy cried, "For my grand finale, I will make my assistant disappear!"

"It's my party, I get to check the cabinet," Reggie said, leaping up the stairs. He'd taken off his eye patch and his hook.

"Open the doors, Pirate Boy," Fauntleroy said. "Confirm for all your hearties that there are no secret compartments."

Reggie climbed into the cabinet and jumped up and down before smacking his hands against the walls. "It's solid."

Distantly, Hermione heard him speak. Terror beaded on her skin like sweat drops. She bit her lip and tasted copper. Fauntleroy was going to make her disappear to keep her from telling people he was a wizard!

"What's the matter, afraid he isn't going to bring you back?" Reggie asked her, smirking.

"Yes. I'm a scaredy-cat. You do it," she said. "It's your party. You should assist the magician with the final trick."

Reggie puffed out his chest. "Yeah. I should."

"Walk the plank, Pirate Boy," Fauntleroy said.

Reggie immediately marched off the stage.

"You cast a spell on him!" Hermione cried.

"Get into the Vanishing Cabinet or I'll cast one on  _you_ ," Fauntleroy replied.

Hermione clenched her pretend wand, wishing it was real, wishing with all her might that the cabinet would go back to wherever it came from.

And then it vanished.

Fauntleroy cursed and then put on a smile for his rapt audience. "Since my assistant wanted to stay here, I made the cabinet disappear instead!" He glared at her and hissed, "Curtsey!" before he took a final bow.

Hermione had seen an actress curtsey in a play once. She did an awkward imitation of the motion.

Fauntleroy lifted a wand made of dark wood from a pocket in his robes. He waved it at the audience. "Return to the party. Show's over."

Reggie, who had started to climb the steps to the stage, spun around and marched toward the house.

"What did you do to them?" Hermione asked. It was eerie how everyone silently turned their backs on the magician and headed for the French doors.

"Compulsion Charm. I'm a wizard, girl." Fauntleroy said dismissively. He reached out to grab her arm. "And you're a Muggle-born who's mucked things up." He gave her a shake. "What did you do to the cabinet?"

"I don't know." She wanted to ask what a Muggle-born was, but he shook her again. She kicked his shin.

"Ow!" Fauntleroy didn't release her. He dragged her over to place where the cabinet had stood. He heaved an aggrieved sigh. "I realise, little witch, that this is the first time your magic has manifested, and you don't understand why the cabinet disappeared—"

"I wanted it to," she said. "You were going to make me vanish and not come back."

He gaped at her. "Are you mental? I make a too damned good a living off Muggles to roger it up that way."

Hermione kicked him again.

He yelped. "Stop doing that!"

She said, " _You_ asked  _me_ to be your assistant. You let me see that magic was real." She narrowed her eyes the way Miss Steel did when students misbehaved. "This is your fault, not mine."

"Very true." The hand that had gripped her arm lifted to rake through golden hair. "It's no fun unless someone knows my secret, and Bunny refused to be my assistant anymore unless I put a ring on her finger. I saw your hat and couldn't resist." Fauntleroy exhaled and sank to the stage like a deflated balloon. "It wasn't even my cabinet." He groaned. "Cousin Gilderoy's going to kill me for losing it."

"He might not," Hermione said.

Fauntleroy laughed without humour. "No, he'll wipe all my memories, and I'll spend the rest of my days trying to do card tricks in the Spell Damage Ward."

Spell Damage Ward—wizards had a hospital? Hermione had more questions buzzing in her head than bees in a hive. She said, "He might not have lost the cabinet. I didn't wish for it to vanish. I wished for it to go back to wherever it came from."

"Clever girl." Fauntleroy pinched her cheek, eyes merry again. "Clever  _witch._ I'll stop by Gilderoy's place to make sure the cabinet didn't return to Borgin and Burkes—never mind. Help me pack up."

This time, Hermione wasn't as awed by the bag's ability to hold so many things. "That's enchanted, isn't it?"

"Capacious Charm with a Feather-light Spell," Fauntleroy said. Once all the gear was packed, he gestured for her to leave the stage, hopped down on the ground, and waved his wand. The table and stage folded up and shrank down into tiny squares that he dropped into the bag.

Hermione asked, "If I'm a witch, shouldn't I have a magic wand?" She looked at the pretty carved one in her hand. "A real one."

"Not until you get the letter inviting you to Hogwarts. It's a school for witchcraft and wizardry, not that you need to know that yet," Fauntleroy said, "since you're only—how old are you? Ten?"

"Eight."

"Glad I asked. I wouldn't want to use a Ten and Up Memory Charm on an under-ten mind."

Hermione froze. "Beg pardon?"

"Nice manners too. You are advanced for your age. Future-you will have brains and beauty." Fauntleroy walked toward her. "There's something behind your ear." She shivered when his fingers brushed her hair. He showed her a gold coin. "For your trouble." He pressed the coin into her hand.

"Trouble?"

"I'm hard to forget," Fauntleroy said, "But for both our sakes, I'll have to try and make you forget the unforgettable." He waved his wand.

 

Hermione blinked

She stood in the dining room beside a table loaded with party food. Through the doorway, she could see children playing games in the lounge. She remembered entering the home, but nothing else.

"Try a fairy cake." Reggie's mum held one out to Hermione. She wore a lady pirate costume. "I won't tell your parents if you don't." She winked.

An image of a handsome blond man flashed into Hermione's mind and then faded until all that was left was a dazzling smile without a face.  _The Cheshire Cat?_  She had read Alice in Wonderland, but it was ages ago. Why was she thinking about it now?

Reggie swaggered into the room. He wasn't wearing his pirate hat, eye patch, or hook. His hair was messy, not combed into place the way it had been when he’d opened the front door. He took the cupcake from his mum and licked the frosting. "I'm not having that magician round again," he said. "There was something dodgy about him. I'm glad I wasn't his assistant." Reggie licked off the rest of the cupcake's frosting. "He didn't even bring back that rubbishy old cabinet."

Hermione was too choked up to speak. She'd missed the magic show! She clenched her hands, one around her wand and the other around . . . something else. She looked down.

"What's that?" Reggie asked. "Some kind of coin?"

She uncurled her fingers to stare at the object in her hand. It was gold, strange. She held it between her thumb and forefinger to read the word on it: GALLEON.

"Galleons are ships, not coins," Reggie said. He tossed his cupcake onto the table and reached for the coin. "That stupid magician should've given me the coin. It's my party."

Hermione clutched the coin protectively in her fist. "What are you talking about?"

Reggie scowled. "I was watching through the window. I saw him give you the coin. It should be mine." He made to grab her hand.

She punched him.

 

Thankfully, Hermione remembered the name of the restaurant where her parents were dining. Regina Kane made a terse phone call and then sent Hermione to wait in the entry until her mum and dad came to collect her. Reggie and his puffy bottom lip became the centre of attention in the lounge. Hermione heard the words "tried to kiss me" and knew her entire school would hear that she was a loony who'd hit a boy for not fancying her.

"Git," she muttered. She examined the coin that had caused all the trouble, wondering how a magician she didn't remember seeing had given it to her.

Her mum and dad apologised so profusely for her "acting out" that Regina Kane thawed enough to say that since Reggie had quickly recovered, she wouldn't bring the matter to the school's attention.

Hermione's parents didn't speak to her until they returned home.

"You got off lightly," her mum said. "Police put people in jail for assault."

"Battery," Hermione said. "Assault is the threat of harm. Battery is the actual physical impact."

"That's enough. Straight to bed, Columbo," her dad said. "And no reading."

She headed for the stairs and then turned. "There's just one more thing."

"Yes?" Her dad smiled a little over her use of Detective Columbo's signature line.

Hermione asked, "How long had you been at the restaurant when Mrs. Kane phoned?"

"An hour or so," he said. "We'd finished dinner and ordered coffee. Why?"

"Just curious."

She walked up the stairs, her mind on the puzzle of what had happened in the hour between her arrival at the party and punching Reggie. In her room, she hung up her witch's costume in the wardrobe and put on pyjamas. She picked up the gold coin she'd set on her bedside table.  _"_ Curiouser and curiouser," she whispered.

Hermione placed the coin beneath her pillow. She wasn't interested in magic tricks anymore. She wanted to learn about  _real_ magic.

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike Hermione, I only read a few articles written by magicians, the most useful of which was Teller Reveals His Secrets by Teller of Penn & Teller. Columbo started airing in 1979 and was family friendly enough for the Grangers to watch together. Yes, Reggie Kane was deliberately Malfoy-esque. I liked the thought that punching a boy who deserved it had happened more than once in Hermione's life. :)


End file.
